


A Moment of Respite

by yourobdtst



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, i only tagged the relationships between the ones who did things explicitly sexual, idk what to say about it my boy needs his stress relief, oh man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourobdtst/pseuds/yourobdtst
Summary: He gets antsy. Sometimes the lights get too bright. The screaming is deafening. His members get too loud, too close, far too close.He doesn’t have time – so he makes some. Steals a few moments to be away, and alone.(This is 2.3k of Taeyong getting off thinking about his members.)





	A Moment of Respite

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work ever posted, which. might say something about me lol. nice to meet you i'm becca
> 
> i wrote this in about two hours in a short burst of inspiration and also worry?? NCT is working so hard and i'm so proud but sometimes i worry if they're sleeping and eating and keeping their stress down so i guess this is me trying to alleviate my own concerns. anyways if you find any errors don't be shy about letting me know
> 
> i'm pretty inconsistent about real name vs. stage name so i apologize for using "ten" then whipping around and using "sicheng"
> 
> taeyong's a sub, psa

Spare moments are rare in this high flying life of his.

 

Between the performances and appearances, rehearsals and interviews, the strain of taking on the role of leader to seventeen other boys stretched just as thin as him – it all fries his nerves day in and day out. He’s the face, the front, the barrier between harsh management and the unforgiving eyes of the public. His boys rely on him. He’ll never resent his position. He’ll never regret his career.

 

However.

 

He gets antsy. Sometimes the lights get too bright. The screaming is deafening. His members get too loud, too close, far too close.

 

He doesn’t have time – so he makes some. Steals a few moments to be away, and alone.

 

It’s late. The city is quiet. The members are too – all accounted for and asleep, he’s made sure. He’s locked himself away in the bathroom, stripped and stepped under the burning spray of the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weight on his shoulders. Here, he can relax. Here, he is no longer an idol, a leader, an icon.

 

In these spare moments he makes for himself, he is just Taeyong, a young man who _needs_.

 

He slumps against the wall, breathes out heavy, scratches his fingernails down his chest, and lets his mind wander.

 

Ten comes to mind first – silly, sexy Ten, with that signature mischievous glint in his eye. Gorgeous, always. A filthy mind, Ten’s got. He’d pull Taeyong in by the collar, push his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, not even bother with a kiss before his teeth slide down Taeyong’s neck. The Ten in his mind marks his leader easily; Taeyong pulls his own hair imagining the bruises left on his collarbones that he so craves. His skin burns, now with arousal rather than the hot water pouring down his body.

 

But a kiss – oh, how badly he wants to _kiss_ , soft presses of lips to the corner of his mouth, sliding pillow soft against someone’s mouth, coaxing tongue and teeth in between breathy panting. Mark. Mark, so young, all smiles, looking up to Taeyong as an inspiration for his own role as leader among the youngest members. Mark, so eager, how he _adores_ the boy, how he’d pour his heart into slick, heated kisses, sucking devilishly on his bottom lip to soothe the harsh bite he’d leave there as a tease; he’s soft-hearted, but Mark gets him _oh so hard_.

 

Taeyong’s fingers press to his lips, feeling them tingle from the phantom kisses that he pictures Mark indulging him in. He’s dizzy, blood pounding everywhere in his body but his head.

 

But Mark is shy, nervous and unsure of himself, even in Taeyong’s mind. All bark and no bite, his eyes, shining behind Taeyong’s tightly closed lids, hold something dark, but the way his hands stay gripped tight to Taeyong’s biceps betrays his inexperience. His mouth is filthy, laving hot and heavy across Taeyong’s mouth, but the rest of him is pure, unexperimental.

 

Sicheng, quiet but wild. The hands on Taeyong’s biceps belong now to a known favourite of his, and they’re moving quickly. Taeyong’s own hands shuffle to keep up with his winding imagination, following the path that Sicheng strokes down his arms, up his sides, rakes nails down his back. Taeyong moans softly at the welts it draws, how he loves to be marked, and he pictures Sicheng’s eyes blown wide in wonder at just how _easy_ it is to absolutely wreck his leader. Pictures and follows Sicheng’s fingers dancing up his abdomen, teasing around his nipples, achingly hard and sensitive even in the steam that fills the bathroom.

 

How Sicheng yearns to please. Good isn’t good enough for him. Taeyong groans as the boy in his mind lets his fingers follow rivers of water down his body to wrap around his cock, smirks cutely at how _hard_ Taeyong is. He can picture it so easily, his lilting accent asking, “Is this for me?”

 

And oh, how easily Taeyong gives in to his boys, how easily he gets lost in his own imagination. It’s his own hand sliding across his heated cock, he knows, knows it will never be Sicheng’s outside of his imagination, but that doesn’t stop his breathy whispers.

 

“Yes, yes, Sichengie, please, god, _please_ baby, you’re so good to me, so perfect –”

 

Sicheng would giggle, he would, and Taeyong’s cock throbs in his palm just thinking of the flick of his member’s wrist as he smiles filthy at him, big eyes hooded. It makes his knees weak, his back slides down the wall until he’s on the floor, and the vision of Sicheng fades and his blood blazes with the need for more.

 

He needs more, needs to give himself over to someone stronger than him, who can pull him apart and piece him together again. He needs this, needs to feel like his isn’t himself, let someone take every inch of him, someone he trusts so soundly.

 

It’s Johnny. Johnny’s adorable upturned top lip pressing just below his ear, he can almost feel it clear as the picture in his mind is; it’s Johnny’s heavy hand, moving achingly slow across his cock now, and Taeyong wants to beg. The Johnny in his mind knows though, knows what Taeyong craves, knows exactly how to give it to him.

 

“On your knees, baby,” Taeyong whimpers at how clearly he can hear Johnny’s command, even when it isn’t real, “up on your knees, I’ll help you. I’ll treat you good. You’ve earned it, baby.”

 

Taeyong whimpers, abandons his hold on his cock to follow where Johnny touches, hands winding around his hips to grasp at the gentle swell of his ass, skate water-slick fingertips over his hole before pressing one in. He moans, outright, hears Johnny shush him, but he can’t, loves it too much to keep quiet. Loves the stretch even just one finger gives him, loves the burn he feels from only having water to slick the drag, loves most of all the image of Johnny being the one to pry him open.

 

Taeyong tangles his free hand in his hair, pulling hard. His mouth falls open, hips kicking back as he fucks himself on a single finger to the image of Johnny breathing heavy across his chest, big and strong and _oh so handsome_ , muttering praise into his ear:

 

“That’s it Taeyongie, good boy, you love it, huh? Love how I make you feel? Come on, baby, let me hear you.” Johnny’s deep voice melts like honey, sounds rich as chocolate, Taeyong is addicted.

 

Taeyong whines, needy and breathy, pushes in another finger and falls forward, face pressed to the slick floor of the shower. His own fingers are thin and weak, but his imagination makes them feel like Johnny’s – thick, dexterous, sending jolts of pleasure up his body and they part and stretch him further. It burns so good. Johnny is _so good_. And while he knows, tucked away in the back of his mind, that the real Johnny will never touch him like this, the Johnny he’s picturing is talking and touching and enough for now. Enough to get him through, he convinces himself.

 

“You take it like you were born for it, baby,” Johnny’s image sinks another one of Taeyong’s fingers into himself, pushing so deliciously deep, fluttering slick over his prostate and making his hips kick forward in pleasure, then immediately push back for more. He feels electric, wound the tightest he’s ever been, whimpers and moans unabashed and hopefully covered by the sound of the shower.

 

“Johnny, Johnny _please_ , please baby it’s so good, want more, please,’ Taeyong’s a mess on the floor, single-mindedly thinking of how the Johnny in his mind is hunched over his back, breathing heavy into his ear, cock hard against the back of Taeyong’s thigh. Taeyong arches his back, raises his full ass higher, he wants to look good, look good for Johnny, look good enough to _fuck_.

 

“Yeah, baby? More? Anything for you, god, so perfect, so hot. You can have anything you want.” Suddenly it’s not Johnny anymore, but Jaehyun, it’s Jaehyun with his soft honey words and caring nature, and _yes,_ this is what Taeyong needs, needs to be taken care of. “Want my cock, darling? Want me to fuck you? Use your words for me, be good.”

 

Taeyong’s mind is a mess, fogged over and completely detached from what’s real, because the Jaehyun ordering him to beg is just his imagination, but he _feels so real_ to Taeyong, and he will do anything. Anything to get the release he needs, to get Jaehyun to fuck him well and good and _full_. His arm aches from the angle at pushing his fingers into himself, but he can’t stop, needs it, _needs him,_ begs for it between his choppy pants.

 

“Jae – Jaehyunnie _please,”_ tears prick the corners of his eyes, “need you so bad, please fuck me, _please fuck me_ , I’ll do anything for you, just _please.”_

 

The image of Jaehyun hums low behind him, and Taeyong pulls his fingers out to mirror with his fingertips how Jaehyun teases around his rim with the head of his cock. Tareyong whimpers, achingly empty, desperate to be full, prays that he begged hard enough, that he looks pretty enough, that _he’s_ enough for Jaehyun’s cock.

 

The tears fall from Taeyong’s eyes. “Please,” he chokes, desperate, “I need you so bad, Jaehyunnie, _please_ give it to me.”

 

He gasps, loud, and moans, louder, and Jaehyun’s image slides in, Taeyong pushing in four fingers to mirror the feeling of Jaehyun’s heavy cock inside him. He’s so full, Jaehyun’s cock is so thick, but _god_ it’s good, everything he needed and Jaehyun begins to rock inside him, the drag almost painful, but Taeyong finds it perfect.

 

“So tight, Taeyongie,” Jaehyun rasps, “you’re so tight, feels so good. You’re always so perfect, look so good, wanna make you come, baby, wanna hear you say my name when you come.”

 

Jaehyun’s voice alone, sizzling red hot in Taeyong’s mind alone, could make him come, he moans low with every thrust of his own fingers matching how he imagines Jaehyun fucking him, whimpers high when a thrust connects sharply with his prostate. He wants to come, wants to come on his member’s cock, wants to come feeling full and fucked and owned from the inside out. He wants to be good though, keeps his hand fisted harshly in his hair, won’t touch himself unless he’s told because he’s a _good boy_.

 

But Jaehyun, doesn’t pull his hair, no, he’s too kind to be rough with his Taeyongie, fucks him steady and rhythmic but never bruising, so Taeyong’s mind conjures another in addition to Jaehyun, conjures Doyoung, knelt in front of him with a hand in his hair pulling his face up off the floor.

 

“Let me make you feel nice, yeah?” Doyoung murmurs to him, and Taeyong can only moan in response. “I know you like this, come on and let me make you feel good.”

 

And _oh_ , he’s right, Taeyong _adores_ this, pulls his fingers out of his hair and pushes them into his mouth to mirror the cock that Doyoung sinks down his throat. He loves the stretch of his lips, loves the ache in his throat he’ll feel the next morning. He feels so perfect, full in every way, his moans sing around his fingers as he imagines laving his toungue across the underside of Doyoung’s cock, made hard from seeing his leader get fucked by another member. Taeyong’s blood burns in his veins, he’s _so_ turned on, he just needs to come, wants to come with a cock in his ass and another down his throat.

 

It’s so much, it’s too much, the way that Jaehyun’s moans blend with Doyoung’s in his mind, his own whining far too load in his ears. The way his gag reflex flutters with every push of Doyoung’s cock and how Jaehyun has sped up, fucking into Taeyong fast and hard, pressing down on his lower back to keep him arched and pretty.

 

“You wanna come, Taeyong?” Doyoung’s imaginary voice asks, and Taeyong moans around his fingers.

 

“Can you come like this, love?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly. “Come just from my cock? From getting your face and your ass fucked? You’re so filthy, baby, come for me, show me how good you are and come.”

 

And _fuck_ , in burns white hot, coming untouched from the sensation those words give him, and Taeyong’s vision blacks out as he groans, gasps against his fingers, ass clenching painfully tight on his thrusting fingers, forcing them to still. It burns and it’s everything he needed, his cock twitching harshly as he comes, comes for his members, for his _boys_ and what they do to him.

 

He slumps to the floor, fingers slipping out as he catches his breath and cracks open his eyes.

 

The images are gone, he’s alone in the bathroom – he always was. He’s alone and the water is starting to run cold, but his body still feels hot and alive, singing from the power of his orgasm. He could, probably should, feel disgusting at thinking the things he does about the people he’s been tasked to protect. Probably should feel ashamed as he climbs back up onto shaky legs and washes cum off the floor, cleans himself as quickly as he can before the water gets too cold to bear. Maybe if he were a little more honourable he wouldn’t even be able to look his members in the eye for a day or two after what he’s just imagined. But he feels nothing but the heavy, sated feeling of bliss he gets every time he does this. It’s almost like therapy.

 

He gets antsy, and he _needs_. And if sometimes he has to be Taeyong, a _good_ _boy_ , to be able to be Lee Taeyong, an idol; if he has to imagine his members’ touches and voices and praise to be able to get through a rough couple of days, then he will.

 

He’ll do anything for his boys.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! if you wanna find me i have a fairly new twitter acc @peek_a_kyungboo (cute huh?)


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